Wounded
by Atarah Derek
Summary: The missing scene from "Fallen Idol." Bear with me as I don't know how big a group of soldiers has to be to constitute a platoon. For all intents and purposes, six men one platoon.


**Wounded**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Wait...Nope, nothing.

Radar was enjoying the Korean breeze on his face. He had to admit, it was good to get out of Colonel Potter's office every now and again. But he was on a mission of sorts, and he hadn't the slightest idea what he was going to do when he got to Seoul. He had a full three days to figure it out, though.

The muddy road brought him past a platoon of American soldiers. He slowed down and called out to them.

"Hey, any of you guys from Iowa?"

"Yeah," a man on his right responded. "You headed that way?"

"Oh, no, I'm goin' into Seoul to, uh..." he cleared his throat. "I-I'm just goin' into Seoul."

"I wish I was," replied the Iowan. "It's been so long since I've been to Seoul to, uh--" he cleared his own throat, all the while holding back a chuckle. "Hardly know what it's like anymore."

The other soldiers chuckled. Radar could feel his face turning red. "Right." He stepped on the gas, the men's laughter echoing behind him.

He hadn't gone half a mile when that instinctive feeling for which he'd been nicknamed rose in his gut. He swerved to the right a nanosecond before a mortar hit the dirt beside him. The force of the explosion caused his jeep to skid out of control. Radar slammed on the brakes and dove out of the jeep for cover.

_Gee, I gotta go warn those men!_

Radar, for all his naïvety, was recklessly brave when another being, animal or human, was in danger. When told about it, he scarcely remembered the danger he'd put himself in, and would often respond with shock and awe to his own actions. That reckless abandon kicked in now, and he dashed as quick and as low as he could back to the platoon.

"Guys!" he called before they even came into his line of sight. "Guys, you guys gotta get off the road!"

"What's the matter, Iowa?" one man called. "Jeep find a land mine?"

Radar glanced up at the speaker and saw he was a sergeant. "No sir, mortar fire. Half a mile that way." He pointed in the direction of the jeep.

"Told ya it was a shell, Thompson," said another soldier. The other men grew uneasy.

Another man, a lieutenant, spoke. "It was just one shell. Hear anymore comin'?"

They all listened for a moment. "No," they responded.

"Wait," said Radar suddenly. Then, "Get down!"

He dove for the ditch as a mortar landed nearby. The other men scrambled for whatever could pass as shelter.

The Iowan soldier ended up beside Radar. "How'd you know that was coming?"

Radar winced as another shell landed nearby. "Oh, that's why they call me Radar," he answered. "By the way, I'm Corporal Radar O'Riley. I'm company clerk over at the MASH 4077."

"Gerschbach, PFC," the other man responded. A shell hit the road, sending gravel over them. Gerschbach's hand flew to the trigger of his gun. Radar covered his head and yelped.

The dust settled, but the noise of raining bombs didn't cease. But over the shells they heard a man groan. Someone shouted.

"Thompson's been hit! Get a medic on the horn!"

Instinctively, Radar moved to look for a phone. Another mortar landed right where he'd been sitting a moment ago. He spun around.

"Private Gerschbach, are you okay?!"

Gerschbach groaned. "I'm good. Just landed hard on my ankle tryin' to get out of the way of that one! Hey, I'd tell ya to come back, but moving saved your life. But take cover now!"

Radar nodded, even though he was out of Gerschbach's line of sight. He made his way over to where a rusted jeep lay on its side. He found there a soldier who had apparently been thrown head first into the jeep by the force of an explosion. This man was carrying a phone in his ruck sack, and Radar reached for it. Another bomb exploded close by, causing Radar to jerk his hand as he grasped the phone. His forearm connected with a sharp edge of the old jeep, and Radar yelped with pain and fright. He tried to steady his shaking hands and called into the receiver.

"We got shelling goin' on here, and some of our guys are hurt! We need an ambulance!"

"Help!"

Radar looked over to see one man stooped over his buddy, hands pressed to the wounded man's side. The corporal moved toward the two soldiers, all the while rattling off their approximate coordinates to the man on the other end of what was their only lifeline at that point.

But even the ultra sensitive Radar could be caught off guard when properly distracted. A shell landed a few yards from him. Radar felt something slam into his left shoulder, and the next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, his breath knocked out of him. Then the pain came; excruciating pain that blocked out all other sense of being. Radar had no breath to cry out. Finally the pain became so great that, mercifully, he blacked out.

**AN: **Private Gerschbach is named after a friend from high school. No, he didn't join the military. But I needed a name for the Iowan soldier, and Robb popped into my head. So I gave the Iowan Robb's last name. Just giving credit where credit is due.


End file.
